The Mortal Coil
by StraitjacketChic
Summary: When the Enterprise answers a puzzling distress call from the Inquisitive near the Neutral Zone, they are embroiled in an elaborate plot that could incite galactic war. In navigating the shadowy motives of the Federation, the crew of the Inquisitive, and in particular the enigmatic acting captain, Ada Haversine, Spock observes a human intrigue that is, in a word, fascinating.
1. Chapter 1

_Ship's log, USS Inquisitive, Stardate 1456.7, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting._

_Commander Federer's behavior has grown so erratic that I was compelled to have him forcibly removed from the Bridge. Like the Captain, his symptoms began this morning with perspiration and arrhythmia, and paranoia and violent aggression quickly followed. Within four hours of initial symptoms, already confined to sickbay, he, too, fell into a coma. Meanwhile, the Captain, Ensign Meyers, Ensign Haversine, Lieutenant Chang, and Doctor Singh continue to deteriorate in their unconscious states, and Chang and Ma-Ensign Haversine are on full life support. _

_We know only that their organ systems are ceasing to function, one by one. Our research and testing has yielded no significant information on the nature of their ailment; tricorders and biometric scans show nothing out of the ordinary except for the seemingly spontaneous organ failure. Acting chief medical officer, Doctor Cromwell, still believes that the behavior is caused by a well-camouflaged virus, but I now believe that it is their minds that are falling apart. I do not know what could cause such mass psychosis and the eerily specific order in which their bodies shut down, nor do I understand how the condition spread to these unconnected people, but I have teams of four crew members monitoring operations on all vital equipment. Lieutenant Chang nearly compromised the antimatter chamber in his psychotic state before we restrained him, and Meyers damaged our auxiliary power. _

_We have sent a distress signal to Starfleet, but until help arrives our first priority must be to remain hidden from the galaxy at large. No one, not even our rescuers, can know our mission. _

"Captain, there's an incoming message, heavily encrypted, from Starfleet Command. They say it's urgent."

Kirk glanced around at Lieutenant Uhura, whose brow furrowed in concern as she

listened.

"Let's hear it."

"Sir, the USS Inquisitive, a scientific survey ship conducting research on the binary star system near the Neutral Zone reports a that members of their crew have contracted an unknown condition. We're to prepare a quarantine area large enough to accommodate one hundred potentially infected people and transport them there. Then…" Uhura trailed off and her lovely dark eyes widened as she heard the last part of the message. "Then the ship is to be destroyed completely, sir."

Spock raised his eyes from his diagnostics and raised a brow. "Does the Inquisitive have a purpose other than research?"

"No, sir. It has only rudimentary weapons systems and the crew is made up mostly of physicists and chemists. But it might be carrying the disease."

"Surely that would make it a valuable source of information in identifying the issue. To destroy it before running scans would be illogical."

"Captain, they were absolutely adamant that we are to destroy the ship the moment the last crew member is beamed out."

Kirk, who had remained uncharacteristically silent until now, met his First Officer's eyes briefly before speaking.

"We'll address the question of the ship when we come to it. Uhura, send the Inquisitive's coordinates to the helm and tell Dr. McCoy to begin preparations for our guests. Mr. Sulu, set a course, warp factor nine. Mr. Spock, with me." The Vulcan rose fluidly and silently followed his captain into the lift.

_Personal log, Stardate 1456.9, Lieutenant Commander Ada Haversine, Acting Captain_

_Charlie always said that the Captain's chair is the loneliest summit in the universe. I thought it was a line, unnecessary and melodramatic, since he told me that while I was tangled in his sheets and already crazy for him. Now he's dying quietly in a cot while I sit here with a phaser in my hands, trying to work up the courage to do what I must. It isn't even my decision. That should make it easier. It should._

_I'm finally at the top, I've gotten the leadership I've always wanted, but I've never felt this powerless. I am flying blind, leading mute, and making decisions while my conscience is hovering between life and death in sick bay. _

"Mr. Spock, is there some reason you decided to sow suspicion right in the middle of the Bridge?" Kirk began speaking the second the lift doors closed around them. Spock carefully considered his response. Human deception was a habit profoundly alien to him, and he was beginning to realize that many of their antics were not a result of irrationality, but of dishonesty.

"I apologize, Captain. In my haste to point out the rashness of Starfleet's command, I did not consider its full implications."

"You're too honest for this business by half, Mr. Spock. When you command a vessel, you become familiar with the scent of a lie. I envy you for lacking that ability." Kirk looked straight ahead, frowning. "You're right; the chances that the Inquisitive is on a purely scientific mission are slim."

"Espionage, sir? They were found only one astronomical unit from the Neutral Zone."

"That would be my bet. But I don't bet on spies."

"And the ship? Captain, if these people really are sick, to destroy the ship would be reckless."

"Are you advising me to directly disobey Starfleet's order?"

"No, captain, merely to take some liberties with the timing of its execution. The ship need not be destroyed _immediately. _ We have not been given any orders concerning search parties."

"That's a dangerous game, Spock."

"Yes, sir."

"I like it."

_I'm not sure if I can do it. I think it's in my head. I see it behind my eyelids. _

It took the Enterprise only three hours from the time Starfleet's message arrived to reach the Inquisitive. On the screen, the ship hung silent in the air, tiny and defenseless. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy stood on the Bridge, each caught in their own thoughts. Kirk's mind raced through the possibilities, his hunger to discover the truth battling the knowledge that to engage the shadowy depths of the Federation might bring disaster upon his ship. Spock reviewed the profiles of the command staff of the Inquisitive; all fiercely brilliant scientists. Could such minds really serve dishonest schemes? McCoy simply braced himself for the worst. He had seen plague ships before. He waited for the moaning, the shrieking, the weeping with a steeled heart.

"Hail on all frequencies. lieutenant." The Bridge waited in tense silence as the communications officer flipped her switches.

"I have a response, sir. Establishing visual."

The screen flickered, then the view changed to display a woman in a Captain's seat. The Bridge appeared well-populated and intact, and the woman serene.

"Captain Kirk. I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you."


	2. Chapter 2

There was a long, heavy silence while the occupants of each Bridge surveyed the other. Kirk stared at the woman in the Captain's chair, trying to gain some hint from her unruffled expression and posture. Her clear eyes met his evenly as she waited for him to speak. She had preempted the standard identification dialogue by addressing him by name, so he was forced to demand information explicitly.

"We are prepared to receive all members of your crew as soon as possible. I was given to believe that this ship is commanded by Captain Charles Armitage."

"I'm afraid that Captain Armitage was among the first afflicted. His condition is critical." She still had not identified herself. It seemed deliberate. Apparently sensing Kirk's mounting annoyance, Spock stepped forward.

"Lieutenant Commander Haversine, I take it that you have assumed command?" he inquired, and the woman turned her measured gaze on him.

"I have. Commander Federer fell ill 14 hours ago. He has been in a coma since then, and he is progressing in the established sequence of the illness even faster than the others did. The process has been accelerating with each new victim. We have no time to lose, please connect me to the officer in charge of the logistics of the evacuation."

"That would be Mr. Spock, my first officer." Haversine's eyes flicked to Mr. Spock and her brows furrowed as she met his eyes.

"I will hail you on a secure channel, Captain, to discuss procedure. I have a few matters that I should like to address in private," she said, apparently unfazed. The communication cut out.

"Mr. Spock, please take the communication in the conference room," Kirk said as he settled back in his chair. This was very odd. Acting Captain Haversine was very nearly good at dissimulating. But she had demonstrated a strange lack of familiarity with the delicate language of codes and veils that true operatives used to communicate. With her last statement she had indicated to the entire Bridge of the Enterprise that something was amiss that required secrecy, which would not be the case for a simple evacuation and quarantine. She was very clearly an amateur.

Mr. Spock strode over the the lift and disappeared from view, leaving Kirk to mull over the increasingly nonsensical details of the task ahead of them.

_Captain's log, USS Inquisitive, Stardate 1456.95, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_After weeks of drifting, we have been relieved at last. The U.S.S. Enterprise has retrieved us, and we will begin evacuation within the next two hours, led by myself, Dr. Cromwell, and Commander Spock of the Enterprise. Every heart on the ship is filled with gratitude for this deliverance._

_Personal log, Stardate 1456.96, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_Even as my crew is delivered, I am trapped._

_I have failed to complete the last request Charlie made of me. I had it there in front of me, it would have taken a mere twitch of my finger to accomplish. But to take on the inhumanity of such a choice. To fully condone and partake in the inhumanity and grotesquery of the final mission of this ship… some part of me is comforted to know that I have not yet become so base and cold._

_But now I am without options or allies. Starfleet will throw me to the wolves when they learn of my failure, and with the upcoming evacuation I cannot hope to conceal It. _

_I visit It often. Though It repels me at a profound and visceral level, I feel the creature's pull deep in my mind. It is the only other living (if you can call it living) being with whom I share this terrible secret. _

_And, in a perverse and prideful way, I feel awed by my own power in preserving Its fragile, tortured body. Though if all goes well the galaxy will never know of it, this is undoubtedly my finest and most inspired work. It is my half-child, my personal ghost, whose life-such as it is-is a product of my own hands and expertise; I know that I must somehow save it, even at the cost of revealing my sins. Call me Dr. Frankenstein, and watch me burn for my hubris and ingenuity. _

As Mr. Spock sat awaiting the call of the enigmatic Captain Haversine, he once again reviewed the details her fascinating career. The Earth-born daughter of a prominent quantum computer scientist, Dr. Hector Haversine, she had been sent at age 12 as an apprentice at the Albus colony more than one thousand light years away from her home. By age 20, she was a thrice-published rising star in cybernetics and machine learning, and joined the Starfleet science core. Her official role on the Inquisitive was to build experimental exploratory droids. How could this ship of well-documented and well-respected scientists be embroiled in espionage? Mr. Spock could not quite believe that the Inquisitive truly was concealing some shadowy operation.

The whistle of an hailing signal disturbed his thoughts. When he answered, Haversine's face rippled onto the screen. Her fine, pale face looked rather more weary from up close; dark circles underscored her candid blue eyes, her mouth was set in a tight line, and the brow that had looked so serene on the Bridge actually bore a deep furrow between the eyes. Spock, who on the matter of reading human expressions made up for in practice what he lacked in natural proclivity, made careful note of these signs of strain and filed them away in the back of his mind to consider later. It was, after all, only to be expected that the acting captain of a plague ship would bear some signs of anxiety. Yet there was something in her expression that seemed off. An emotion familiar, but elusive to Spock's ordered, curated mind.

In the split second that it had taken Spock to perform this examination, Haversine had already begun speaking.

"Mr. Spock," she began (she had an odd way of eschewing greetings), "I am pleased to be working with you on process of the evacuation. I am sure that there is no one more capable of handling it than you." Spock inclined his head. "However, I am afraid that I have a few matters that must stay between the captains of the two vessels. Some of our data is of a sensitive nature, and I must protect the interests of the Federation."

Spock considered her impassively. It would be a poor move to challenge her on what kind of scientific data would be above his security clearance. From his previous conversation with Captain Kirk, he knew now not to directly question obvious lies. Instead, he nodded slowly.

"Very well. Shall we discuss the transportation arrangements? At present we have cordoned off deck 7 and have 40 functioning medical stations with 70 more under construction. We can begin beaming crew members aboard in groups of five."

"Do you have full life support systems in the quarantine area? I currently have eight crewmembers with partial or complete organ failure, and if anyone else contracts the condition, we have every reason to believe that they will suffer those symptoms as well."

"We are in the process of constructing them. We will need approximately 49.33 more hours to complete the quarantine area, but healthy crew members can begin boarding immediately and remain confined to the quarters we have set aside for them." Haversine nodded along as he spoke, looking distracted. "Until then," Spock continued, watching her carefully, "I propose to send a medical team in protective gear to attend to the afflicted crew." Here, she started visibly.

"Send an Enterprise team aboard the Inquisitive? No, Mr. Spock, I'm afraid that's quite impossible. We have no idea of what causes this illness, and we cannot risk your medical staff."

"Once the patients are boarded, they will be in contact with them anyway. With proper precautions, a boarding party is no more at risk than the doctors who will attend your crew aboard the Enterprise." Surely she had realized that. Her strange, illogical objection seemed an unlikely product of such an extraordinary mind. Mr. Spock concluded that it must instead be a symptom of the deception that pervaded this mission.

"We have not established that the crew passed it to each other. In fact, several of the afflicted had no logged contact with the others. The source could be somewhere on the ship, and we do not know its form."

"All the more reason to search the ship, Captain."

"I have ordered several comprehensive searches already, which revealed nothing."

"With all due respect, Captain Haversine, it would be poor procedure on the part of the Enterprise if we did not take all viable measures to resolve this problem." The blood had drained from Haversine's face. She lowered her eyes and sat in a silence that stretched out between them. Finally, she looked up, jaw set, meeting Spock's unwavering gaze with renewed boldness.

"Of course, Mr. Spock. Once the evacuation of able-bodied officers is finished, I will welcome you aboard myself. I will begin sending groups of five to the transporter room at once."

The screen went black, leaving Mr. Spock to recline in his chair and ruminate, fingers steepled, on the complexities of human liars.

_Captain's log, Stardate 1456.97, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_With Mr. Spock in charge of the evacuation, I am confident that we shall be safely aboard the Enterprise quickly and efficiently. The first party is due to beam over immediately._

_Personal log, Stardate 1456.96, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_I may be in the grip of madness, but I believe I now have the strength to do what I must. The creature and I were always meant to destroy each other. This is my final log._


	3. Chapter 3

Nurse Polly Rogers hurried along, very nearly out of breath, towards the turbolift. The last few weeks had pushed the young nurse well beyond her job description, and she felt rather pleased with her new, brisk, high-stakes role. Unlike Armitage and Federer, Haversine seemed inclined to utilize her organizational skills (hard earned as the eldest of twelve rowdy siblings), and for that she had earned Polly's support. Over the last twelve hours, Haversine and Polly had jointly managed the evacuation of 93 crew members, settling them in quarters aboard the Enterprise with remarkable efficiency, despite Haversine's strange, uncharacteristic distraction. Only the bridge crew, four nurses, Dr. Cromwell, and the coma patients remained aboard the Inquisitive, which stood eerily quiet now that the evacuation rush had dwindled.

Polly leaned back against the wall of the lift and closed her eyes. The frenzy of the past day had drowned out the shock that she shared with every officer aboard the Inquisitive. That their mission could be truncated so suddenly and bizarrely, that the ship to which they given so much of her effort could be unceremoniously pulverized, that this plague remained unidentified and at large, seemed unthinkable. A sense of uncertainty permeated the crew, and Polly was not exempt. Haversine's frequent announcements to the ship and the crew already aboard the Enterprise kept the worst of it at bay, since she had made it a policy to keep them apprised of all developments, messages from Starfleet, and procedural matters, and her calm, familiar voice maintained a feeling of order and safety. Yet even she could not entirely stave off the panic. There was not a man or woman among the crew that was not constantly, vigilantly seeking signs of the illness in themselves, their friends, their colleagues, their lovers. The tension grew more palpable with every passing moment, though no one seemed to have contracted symptoms since Federer's madness. Polly shuddered and tugged at the blue ribbon in her hair as she contemplated the ship that had been her home, once a bustling hive, zipping through the galaxy, now silent, dead in the water, and hollowing out.

The lift came to a stop, and Polly stepped out. In contrast to the rest of the ship, the Bridge seemed warm, welcoming, and very much alive. The helmsmen, Casey and Wooster, chatted of this and that; Babel, the communications officer, spoke into her headset with a rather unconcerned air; monitoring the sensors, Lieutenant Weng hummed softly to himself. Polly had noticed before that Haversine had that effect on those under her command. Her composure and easy, jocular air remained, consistent and reassuring, throughout the trials of the last week. At present, she sat in the Captain's chair, deep in conversation with cantankerous Dr. Cromwell. Polly approached and stood at attention on Haversine's left, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Ah! Nurse Rogers, there you are." Haversine turned and smiled at the younger girl. From up close, she looked tired and pinched. "I need you to take charge of the rest of the evacuation. The relevant files should be available to you on the ship's computer, but I would put them on a Pad if I were you."

"Uh, wh-" the proudly professional Polly found herself stuttering, thrown by her sudden elevation from nurse to sole manager of the Inquisitive crew. "Excuse me, Captain?" Haversine, who had turned back to Cromwell, apparently finished briefing Polly, looked around at her.

"Yes?"

"Umm… with all due respect, isn't that…" Polly searched for words."

"My job?" Haversine completed her sentence with a wry smile. "Yes, I daresay it probably is. But I have quite a lot to sort out with Starfleet Command for the next few hours, and I think you'll have a much easier time of it if you have complete authority over proceedings. I've informed Mr. Spock that he'll be dealing with you directly." She seemed to have said everything she was inclined to, but, noticing Polly's flabbergasted expression, Haversine sighed and leaned forward, her kind, earnest gaze on the frightened nurse. "You can do this, Polly. I would never ask this of you if I weren't convinced that you can do a better job of this than anyone else on the crew. You've been doing it all along, and you're one of the most proficient organizers I've ever worked with. Don't sell yourself short. Oh, and you can have Casey for drudge work if you want. He's getting lazy up here."

"I… yes, Captain." She glanced at Cromwell, whose eyes were focused on the captain with an expression of loathing. Everyone on the ship knew that Cromwell disapproved of the young, female science officer stepping into Armitage's shoes, giving orders, distributing duties without much regard for the chain of command (Lieutenant Casey, for example, outranked Polly by several tiers). A smile started tugging on the corners of Polly's lips. She felt suddenly very tall. "Casey, could you download the evacuation data onto a pad and then meet me in Sickbay? I'll be checking the patients' readiness for transportation, Captain." Polly saluted Haversine, who grinned and inclined her head, and bustled to the lift again with a light step. The sense of uncertainty had gone; there was a bright future in store for Polly Rogers.

Had Mr. Spock been capable of such base emotions, he would have been irritated. Captain Haversine had informed him without consultation that she would be delegating the remainder of the evacuation to a young, inexperienced nurse. She had given him no opportunity to protest, sending the message through her communications officer and directing him to speak to Nurse Rogers for all procedural matters.

But irritation would have to wait, for the more pressing feeling was a distinct sense of something very much amiss. What could be so important that Haversine would essentially give up control of her ship to a lackey? Coupled with his strange exchange with her before the evacuation, Spock felt a distinct uneasiness. Lost in speculation, he strode down the gray corridors, and he found his long legs taking him to the transporter room.

As Lieutenant Frank Casey made his way to Sickbay carrying a pad for Rogers, the content of his thoughts was rather spiteful. An hour ago, he had liked Acting Captain Haversine immensely. Her tranquility and competence had come as a welcome change from the tyrannical Commander Tobias Federer, and her insistence on keeping the crew informed was a relief after cagey Captain Charles Armitage. But to relegate a helmsman to the assistant of a jumped up-albeit rather pretty-nurse! It made a mockery of the chain of command. Haversine was clearly losing it, just like her sister and Federer and Chang. And if the Captain had to be relieved of duty… well… Casey would be there and ready to step up to bat.

Casey swaggered through the doors into Sickbay, past the empty doctors' offices, and into the ward of the coma patients, still caught up in his agreeable fantasies. He looked over the eight still bodies on their cots. Where was Rogers?

"Nurse Rogers?" He called, moving among the beds. "I have the-"

Tall, strapping Lieutenant Casey stopped short. He staggered back, mouth gaping, eyes wide and fixed on the floor in front of him for a few long, blank moments before he screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Captain's log, Stardate 1457.54, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_It is with profound sadness and enormous personal regret that I must report the death of Nurse Rogers. Her service throughout our mission, and particularly on the recent evacuation effort, was never anything short of outstanding. Recommend highest honors. Investigation is ongoing, cause of death pending Dr. Cromwell's postmortem._

_Personal log, Stardate 1457.54, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_She was beaten to death, as if by an enraged crowd. When I saw her face, bloodied and broken, it was all I could do not to vomit. I don't understand it. It makes no sense, though a corner of my mind races with horrific, impossible scenarios. I feel the creature's hand in this, but that must be due simply to Its ever growing presence in my mind._

_Casey is, of course, under suspicion. The only candidate with means, motive, and opportunity. It makes perfect sense, and in that case it was my careless redistribution of authority that doomed Polly. And yet, I don't believe for an instant that Casey is capable of such an atrocity. An egomaniac, certainly, with below-average work ethic. But never have I observed any indication of visceral anger in him, repressed or externally expressed, that could lead him to bludgeon a woman to death with his bare hands. It defies imagination. At any rate, he barely had time to reach her before he called it in._

_I blather now, because there is a darker thought on my mind, one that I can't bear to touch. _

_Polly wore a blue satin ribbon in her hair today. I noticed on the Bridge, because I thought it might have been the one that Marie gave to her. When Casey found her body, her hair had come out of its braid, and the ribbon was nowhere in sight. No one else seems to have noticed._

_I found the ribbon five minutes ago. I don't know what to make of it, or how it came to be there. It's impossible that it means what my fevered, paranoid mind takes it to mean. But how am I to explain how that little blue ribbon could end up in the still, clenched hand of my comatose, pale-as-death sister? Polly was found between Charles's bed and Marie's. Their bodies-all the coma victims, in fact-were apparently undisturbed by the violent struggle. But when I returned to the scene, I chanced to look at Marie's left hand, and noticed that it was balled in a fist. It never was before. Since she lapsed into her coma, to my knowledge she has never so much as twitched-none of them have. I opened her hand, and there it was: that satin sliver of blue. I'm staring at it now; it's stained with what I can only assume is Polly's blood. _

_I have just learned that Commander Spock intends to beam down and manage the evacuation from here. The temptation to reveal all is increasingly strong, but given what I have seen of the Federation in the last year, it is impossible to trust a stranger, no matter how principled he might appear. _

_I must speak with Cromwell. I trust him about as far as I can throw the fat bastard, but he's my last possible ally._

Spock stood in the transporter room, clad head to toe in a vividly orange protective suit. The news of the murder in Inquisitive's sickbay had taken a muted but marked effect on him. It simultaneously complicated and clarified things. Before the death of Nurse Rogers, Spock had been unwilling to conclude that the goings-on aboard the science vessel were underhanded in nature. Now, however, it seemed impossible to deny that murky forces drove the events on the Inquisitive to ever darker developments.

He had decided to beam over unescorted; his desire to uncover the truth unencumbered by a large boarding party easily outweighed his concern for his own safety. As he took his place on the transporter pad, he contemplated the task ahead. It was imperative, he had decided, to ascertain the truth of this strange, unsettling situation. It was impossible to proceed wisely without full information. He had little doubt that this would be best accomplished through examination of Haversine herself. To this end, he would remain with her as the evacuation proceeded.

As he vanished from the Enterprise, Spock braced himself for the labyrinth ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Spock materialized aboard the Inquisitive, only to find Captain Haversine awaiting him in the transporter room. She greeted him warmly.

"Mr. Spock, you are rather valiant to venture onto this ship. Shall we make our way to the Bridge" Spock inclined his head in acknowledgment and assent, scrutinizing her resolutely tranquil expression.

"I am sorry to hear of your assistant's death. I am informed that you have the man responsible in custody," he remarked, watching her closely. She hesitated before answering, and her brow furrowed.

"We have the most likely suspect, certainly," she responded, speaking deliberately.

"You doubt his guilt?"

"I have served with Casey for a year, Mr. Spock. It is difficult to imagine such a man mustering the necessary aggression. Not to mention that he would have acted very fast to commit the murder within the given time."

"Such objections would hold more weight were there any other possible solution." To this, Haversine did not respond immediately. She seemed lost in thought. Spock tried a different tack:

"I am informed, Captain Haversine, that your sister is among those afflicted." At this, she raised her eyes to his again, and for the first time he saw genuine, unmistakeable emotion. The quiet, profound anguish in her face was written plainly across her pale face, so much so that Spock nearly regretted mentioning it.

"Yes. Marie was among the first to fall." She said nothing more on the matter, and they took the lift in silence. As they stepped out onto the Bridge, Haversine appeared suddenly restored to her state of calm. The remaining crew fell silent as she entered, awaiting her word.

"By now you are all aware of Nurse Polly Rogers's murder. I regret that I can give you neither sufficient information, nor time to grieve uninterrupted. We must save our sadness until we have completed the task at hand. Wooster, please activate the automatic controls. All personnel will evacuate in the next hour. Cromwell and myself will remain with the patients until they can be transported."

Silently, the crew turned to their tasks. The air itself seemed taut. Haversine turned to Spock.

"How would you like to proceed, Commander?"

"I believe that I should examine sickbay. I understand that the life support for the patients are your own application of your cybernetic technology. I will need to ascertain the optimal way to transfer the technology to the Enterprise," he replied after some deliberation. "If you would accompany me and explain the system to me, it will expedite evacuation."

"Of course. Right this way."

The pair returned to the lift, each deep in their own reverie.

_Personal log, Stardate 1457.56, Acting Captain Ada Haversine reporting_

_The ship is empty now, but for Cromwell, Spock, the patients, the creature, and myself. Weng beamed up just now, and Casey is in a holding cell on the Enterprise. Very soon now, I shall have to make my final decision as the captain of this cursed vessel. I could slip away right now as Spock looks over sickbay and kill the damned thing. It would be the work of ten minutes to erase any clue that It ever exists._

_It infuriates me that even now I cannot prioritize expediency over the pitiful half-life that the creature lives. If I decide to preserve it, I must now reveal its existence to the world, or at least to Spock. It will mean my ruin, perhaps even my destruction, and very possibly the destruction of the creature as well. But I cannot snuff out the life I have given everything to save in cold blood._

_For now, I must focus my attention on a different problem: I must discover who killed Rogers, and how. There is something I am missing. I have approximately 24 hours before the patients are evacuated and the ship is destroyed to find out what it is._

Mr. Spock paced slowly about sickbay, watching the perfect automation of Haversine's medical system. She had built a swarm of small robotic units, which moved about the room, administering medicines, adjusting the life support systems, and monitoring the patients. The algorithms that controlled this complex system were unprecedented The patients themselves were fitted with small cybernetic attachments at the napes of their necks, which, Haversine had explained, kept the crucial parts of the brain active and prevented decay.

His investigation of this technological marvel had yielded two results: it had renewed his respect for Haversine as a scientist, not matter how perplexing he found her as an individual, and it had convinced him that the patients were far beyond saving. Though the bodies were kept in perfect working order by the elaborate life support network, not a single sign of life did he see. He found his way to the bedside of a young female officer with familiar features. Her features were angular and reminiscent of a 14th century Earth painting, her skin pale to the point of translucence, and her hair fell in deep russet curls over her cot. Ensign Marie Haversine, a near-perfect replica of her sister, albeit younger and lacking the signs of strain that disturbed Ada's lovely face. She slept there, undisturbed and quiet as the grave.

Almost unconsciously, Spock found himself raising his hand to her face. He let his finger graze her temple, searching for some thought, some sign that there might be a mind. Nothing. Like an empty cathedral, the silence of her mind echoed through his. He brought the other hand to her forehead and delved further. Nothing again. Until, without warning, he felt a sudden burst of visceral emotion surge through him. He staggered back and toppled to the ground, blinded and disoriented by the surge.

It had been like no human feeling he had ever experienced during a meld, a tortured cry from such depths of agony and anger that Spock, from that brief moment of contact, found himself unable to move for several minutes.

Just as he began to prop himself up, the door slid open, and Cromwell and Haversine strode in. Haversine saw him first, and rushed to his side in obvious alarm.

"Mr. Spock, what's happened? Were you attacked?" she interrogated him in a state of extreme agitation. Spock hurried to answer, even as he struggled to martial the revelation of the meld.

"Thank you, Captain, I am quite unharmed. I merely sustained a shock while examining one of your medical units," he responded, astonished at how instinctively he had formulated his deception through vague language. Haversine frowned, clearly unconvinced. Spock hastened to forestall further questions. "Captain, if you would retire with me to the Bridge, I would like to discuss the implementation of the final stage of evacuation. If you will excuse us, Dr. Cromwell, we will return soon to apprise you of the procedure." Cromwell, nodded brusquely and turned his eyes to a diagnostic report.

Haversine, still studying him anxiously, followed him out of sickbay and into the lift. Spock considered how to convey the message that he had received. The single word.

_Cromwell._


End file.
